


Mr. Johnson

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, IN SPACE!, Partners to Lovers, Romance, Sexual Humor, Some Plot, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Daisy and Coulson as agents in space in S5.  Just a bit of drabble.





	Mr. Johnson

"You were so unlike anyone I'd ever met. And you still are."

"Of all the ships in the galaxy, you had to walk onto mine."

"Be carried is more like it."

She lifts him higher so she can get under him for support, ignoring the twisting wind whipping around them, refusing to look down at the cityscape laid out below them with air traffic moving at a quick clip.

It's quite a drop. Even with her powers it would be a challenge. But with her carrying both of them?

Instead, she looks ahead as they make their way together up the ramp.

Easing him into the co-pilot chair, he grinds his teeth together, biting back pain, and she hits the control for the hanger door and settles in the seat beside him.

"I meant it. Every word I said," he goes on with shallow breaths.

"Stop talking like you're dying,"she says plainly, setting the controls while carefully reading the alien language there.

On the screen he sees the specs of a Xandarian medical vessel, watches her upload a forged identity for them both.

"I'm only slightly delirious," he adds. "So I can't be responsible for what I'm about to say."

He sets his jaw as the ship starts to take off and she turns efficiently, starting to undo the temporary bandage there.

"The benefits of blood loss."

"We're going to get you some help, okay?" she says, looking into his eyes. "Coulson. Stay with me."

"I tried," he tells her, watching her hands work beneath the body armor. "It's all I've ever been trying to do."

Her hands pause for a moment, then she gets back to work.

"You're too funny to die, Coulson," she deadpans, getting the buckle loose and lifts the armor up and away from him.

Her face tells him everything he needs to know as she lightly touches the undershirt around the wound at his ribs.

"Not too handsome or charming?" he chimes in, offering her a weak smile.

She smiles back, a real smile, and touches the droplets of sweat on his forehead with her fingers, looks concerned at his pallor.

"You know, you gave up too easy," he sighs, then swallows.

Daisy frowns and gets up from her seat and shuffles around behind him, then comes back with a canteen.

"Here, drink something," she says, an order, holding it up to his mouth.

He does as he's told and focuses, watches her not watch him as she leaves again and returns with a medkit, the fresh bandage she puts on his side comes away bright red.

"Gave up too easy about what?" she asks, tapping her fingers against his cheek, finally giving in to keep him awake, glancing at their ETA.

"You only tried to call me Phil twice. Third time's the charm," he smirks, trying to lift his eyebrows.

"Unbelievable," he hears her mutter, just as his world goes black.

"Phil. _Phil!"_

  
###

  
"Daisy."

She turns from where she's looking out of the port window at the sound of his voice, and her look of concentration changes to one of relief.

"Hey," she replies softly, coming to sit at the hoverchair beside the medbed in the sterile white room.

"What happened? After that shootout with the Kree on Hala, things get kind of fuzzy."

He lifts his hand linked up to some medical device display and pays more attention to his surroundings, trying to sort it out, noting that his prosthetic is missing.

"Mmm," she nods raising her eyebrows at him. "Got you on board my ship, and then you passed out."

He smiles quizzically back at her, looks her face over as her eyelids start to flutter and she looks away.

"At least nothing that can't be fixed, I hope?"

"Coulson." She sighs at him and puts her hand on his arm, just above where his prosthetic connects. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"They sent me in without an extraction plan," he says bluntly. "Thank you."

She gives his arm a pat and then starts to stand up until he reaches out and puts his hand over hers, holding her gaze.

"Where'd they take it?" he asks, tearing his eyes away for a moment to nod at the silver band on his left arm.

"They wanted to study it. They were fascinated by the....primitive construction techniques."

Her eyes look down then, and slowly make their way back to his, like she's worried she's insulted him, but she takes her seat again.

"I've been called worse," he teases, wrinkling his nose, then smiling when she smiles privately.

"You know, I've spent a lot of time trying to make sure that, this....," she says, pointing between them. "Doesn't turn into this."

Her finger makes a circle of him and the room, and he tilts his head at her, then stares past her for a moment out at the star field.

"That's why you requested a separate assignment," he figures. "Is this your way of asking me to retire?"

"I was thinking that maybe we should be...partners?" She holds onto the word like she's trying it out. "That way, I can keep an eye on you."

"That way, I can always have your ba-"

The doors swish and the Xandarian doctor enters, looking strangely enough, just like an Earth MD, except for the Nova Corps logo pinned on the front of his suit.

"I apologize for the interruption," he says, motioning behind him as a tray hovers into view. "I thought you might want this returned."

Coulson's prosthetic sits on the tray and its pushed towards the medbed, as Daisy reaches for it to help, while the doctor looks between them.

"I am assuming your-"

"Partner," they both say together, as she lifts the prosthetic and hands it to him as he twists and snaps it into place.

"-can take it from here?" the doctor finishes, smiling curtly at them.

"Yes," Daisy nods, as the man steps forward with a tablet.

Coulson watches as she starts to read it, her eyes getting wider, chewing on her lower lip.

Then she gives the medic her fakest smile and signs.

 

###

  
"Mr. Johnson."

"It meant they would assume I was the sole legal authority," she explains. "Fully capable of making any important decisions."

"Huh."

"I mean, we're out in the middle of all of this, but, in a lot of ways things aren't that much different from back home.  _Lawyers_."

He's still staring at her working urgently over the controls of the ship, pulling up their clearance to get access to headquarters' flight space.

"When you said 'partners'," he shrugs, "I thought you meant-"

"I did," she interrupts him, letting go of a deep breath. "I was going to tell you, I faked our identities, we can't be in Nova Corps' records. Not yet."

"But then?"

"Then, we got...interrupted. Besides, it's fake. All of it."

She taps on the controls and pulls up the fake identification she created for the two of them, with dopey smiles on their faces as he leans forward to read the data.

"Deleting.right.now," she says staccato, punching keys, until he lifts a hand to her.

"Wait. I'm," he leans even closer to look at the information. "I was about to say I'm not upset, but...I'm an accountant?"

"I was trying to keep it simple," she tells him with a roll of her eyes, then getting to her feet. "I chose something boring. Something that they wouldn't want to ask questions about."

"When did you propose to an _accountant_?" he says, stressing his disbelief.

"It's all right there in the file," she says with a gesture to the holodisplay, trying not to laugh. "You're welcome to read it."

"No," he shakes his head, getting to his feet. "Sell it to me," he says. "Like you did to the Xandarians."

"They didn't ask many questions," she answers with a tilt of her head.

"What if they had? What if it was a Nova Corps officer?" he offers with a wave of his hand.

"But, you're not upset?" she asks, lifting her chin slightly, pausing for a moment to watch the shift in his expression.

"No. Curious? _Maybe_."

She watches him toy with the fingers of his prosthetic hand while he waits for her to answer.

"My concern for you was real, Phil," she carefully repeats. "I think that's all they needed to see."

"Partners then."

"Yup."

"Good," he says with a nod.

  
###

  
"When we get back to Earth, we can get Lola, take some time off-"

She presses the tip of her finger to his lips, interrupting him.

"What are you waiting for? What's stopping us right now?"

He takes her hand in his and wraps his fingers around hers, then presses his mouth to them.

"Enormous amounts of bureaucratic red tape and a few extra years added onto our sentences?" he replies, kissing her wrist.

"Either they already know, or they're lying about being able to see the future, right?"

"I just wish," he tells her, "We didn't have to do undercover on top of our undercover."

"I thought you liked it on top?"

He leans further back into the booth and glances off the reflection in her jewelry at the target, still in the same position at their own table.

"Also, since when did any of that ever stop you?" she says, leaning to touch her lips against his ear.

"It did before I met you."

She can feel his smile when it raises the tip of his ear and starts to say something, but feels his fingers twist around the lace at the top of her boot.

As though he might just tug it loose, and she wants to forget where they are at the moment.

"Oops, target on the move," she tells him, snapping out of it, getting up from the behind their table to take his hand from her thigh into hers.

"Care to dance?"

He lets her pull him to his feet, slipping his hand low against her back as they head to the dance floor with eyes on the target crossing the room.

"This looks like an easy one," he says as she steps him backwards, kicking up the slit in her satin tunic. "Let's try to prolong it, shall we?"

"We just need to get his DNA. Then do a thorough search of...rooms. All of them?" she asks turning him towards the alien they're following.

"This is great, he's going upstairs," he replies with a happy sigh, and pulls them both in the same direction.

As she passes a waiter, she reaches out to grab a couple of glasses of something then spins back around to follow him up the stairs and further down the consulate hall.

"What do you think you're doing?" the alien recoils, looking at the front of his officers tunic drenched in pungent green alcohol.

She laughs, apologizing and then reaches for him for balance, then the sash around Coulson's waist and starts to dab the alien with it.

"Ow! Stop. Don't you know who I am?"

"I think my translator is broken," Coulson lies. "Did you ask for my rank? I'm afraid I'm just an accountant."

"How did an accountant get invited to something like this?"

He shrugs as the alien officer turns away from them.

They wait for him to leave in a huff, then she swipes the DNA sample along the nearby door to open it.

"After you, Mr. Johnson."


End file.
